


Twins

by thequidditchpitch_archivist



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Erotica, Explicit Sexual Content, Fluff, Masturbation, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, The Quidditch Pitch: Self Pleasure
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2006-09-13
Updated: 2006-09-13
Packaged: 2018-10-27 01:45:54
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,276
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10799136
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thequidditchpitch_archivist/pseuds/thequidditchpitch_archivist
Summary: Harry’s off on an extended set of away matches, so Ron has only his imagination to keep him happy.





	Twins

**Author's Note:**

> Note from Annie, the archivist: this story was originally archived at [The Quidditch Pitch](http://fanlore.org/wiki/The_Quidditch_Pitch), which went offline in 2015 when the hosting expired, at a time I was not able to renew it. I contacted Open Doors, hoping to preserve the archive using an old backup, and began importing these works as an Open Doors-approved project in April 2017. Open Doors e-mailed all authors about the move and posted announcements, but may not have reached everyone. If you are (or know) this creator, please contact us using the e-mail address on [The Quidditch Pitch collection profile](http://archiveofourown.org/collections/thequidditchpitch/profile).

  
Author's notes: Well, it’s slash NC17.  Perhaps not surprisingly then it has graphic m/m sex.  There’s also suggested incest.  If any of this bothers you, stay away.  


* * *

by Brumeux

I got an owl from Harry this morning.  Mostly just Quidditch—they ploughed through the Baltics, had a tough match against Ukraine where they couldn’t score a single goal and Harry only located the Snitch in time, and now had only Belarus to play before they came home.

 

It was the bit at the end that was unusual.

I had a really neat dream last night.  Well, no; actually it was rather messy.  It would have been a wet dream except I woke up soon enough to enjoy the end.  

That’s bad enough.  We hadn’t discussed dreams since we were making them up for Trelawney, and the words “wet dream” had never passed between us.  Wanking was different—we’d write “had to wank seven times today because I couldn’t get you out of my mind” or some such.  And I knew he wouldn’t cheat on me with other players or fans or—or anybody for that matter.  So naturally he was wanking.  I was.  But there was more.

I’d had dinner with Fred and George, but I’d left something behind (don’t know what it was) so I Flooed back a few minutes after I’d left.  The twins hadn’t wasted any time: they were naked, and were snogging and sucking and shagging like nobody’s business.  And I couldn’t move or speak, except to shove my trousers and pants down to my ankles as quickly as I could and stroke myself off while I watched.

I don’t know what brought your brothers to mind.  I would have imagined, if you insisted that I have erotic dreams last night, that it might have been the Keeper on the Ukrainian team, who was pretty hot besides being so good at what he did.  No, not like that.  Get your mind out of the gutter, love.  

There was more, but nothing relevant.

 

I was appalled.  My relations were not allowed to have sex.  Not with anybody, and especially not with each other.  In fact, they weren’t even allowed to be naked.  Well, okay, my brothers could be naked, because we’d skinny-dipped at the pond many times, and there were shower rooms at Hogwarts.  But definitely no sex.  And here’s Harry talking about them doing the nasty (and just because they never have girlfriends doesn’t mean they’re poofters like Harry and me), _and he’s getting off on it._   I mean, this was just sick. 

But before I could put this whole thing out of my mind forever, a little voice said, “But what if it was Harry and _his_ identical twin?”  And I could see it: Harry on my left and Harry on my right, walking up to each other…

Harry reaches up and takes off his glasses, and Harry’s too.  They tilt their heads and sort of tentatively get around to kissing.  Just tiny little pecks, to start with, but pretty soon I can see the Harrys’ tongues wrestling and hear them start to pant a little.  Harry has his arms around Harry’s shoulders, and Harry has his hands on Harry’s arse, pulling their crotches together.  Harry’s hands start roving over Harry’s back, but soon he brings them between them and starts slowly to unbutton Harry’s shirt.  As his fingers slip delicately over the newly exposed skin, Harry throws his head back, allowing Harry to start nibbling and licking his throat.

 

Soon both shirts are undone, and pulled loose from the trousers, and hands are everywhere.  Tracing lines up and down spines, pinching nipples.  I know what that’s doing to them.  Mine are practically dead—just no connection to my erotic system—but Harry has always been very sensitive there.  Sometimes I think I could get him off just playing with his nipples: licking the little pink peaks, rubbing my thumbs over them.  I never have the patience to try it though.  I’m too greedy for his cock.

 

One of the Harrys slips his hands down the curve of Harry’s arse, insinuating them inside the waistband of his trousers.  I can see them squeezing him.  In the meantime, they’re back to snogging.  It looks like Harry’s trying to perform a tonsillectomy on Harry, using just his tongue.  But while I’m distracted watching that, Harry’s undone his twin’s belt and zip, and Harry’s trousers are on the floor.  Harry’s follow close behind.

 

Now we’ve got Harry in boxers and Harry in y-fronts.  My Harry does wear both.  He really prefers boxers but he knows I think y-fronts are a lot sexier: they show off the shape of his arse (which is the hottest _I’ve_ ever seen), and the swollen outline of what he’s got waiting for me, with a wet spot at the end, which really means he’s aroused.  And by me!  Anyway, boxers-Harry grabs y-fronts-Harry’s arse; y-fronts-Harry slides his hands inside the boxers to reciprocate, and then they’re both tugging the other’s pants off.

 

And there, bobbing around and rubbing against each other, are two of my favourite things—or one of my favourite things twice, I guess—heads shiny with pre-cum.

 

Oh, I wanted some of that.  I don’t suppose I need to mention that by this time I was flat on my back with my T-shirt up around my armpits and my trousers and my pants down around my ankles, and I had a spectacular hard-on that was receiving needed attention from my fist, and I was rubbing what seemed like pints of my own pre-cum up and down my shaft.  And now my mouth was watering for a taste of Harry.  Either one, but then I thought of trying both at once, and I barely managed to keep from coming.  I wasn’t ready to give up on this fantasy yet!

 

They’re down on the floor.  If there was stretching or lubing, I missed it; but Harry’s inching his cock into Harry’s arse.

 

I didn’t know which of them I envied more.  When I’m inside Harry, he’s so tight, and he does such things with his muscles, that I think there’s nothing better this side of heaven.  But when he’s fucking me, the feeling’s incredible.  For the midget in glasses he once was, he grew an impressive set of naughty bits; and when you’ve got that thick prick up your bum—well, it’s got to be felt to be understood.  Every time feels like the first time.  I’m always stretched a little more than is comfortable: not so much a pain or a burn as a prickling, itching sensation.  But that’s nothing compared to the feeling of fullness, of satisfaction, of being one person with the man I love.  And he’s a past master at finding my prostate with almost every stroke.

 

The Harrys are speeding things up.  Bottom-Harry has his fingers wrapped around his erection, and top-Harry is thrusting like there’s no tomorrow.  Suddenly, bottom-Harry’s coming, covering both their chests with hot lashings of cum, and apparently his spasms send top-Harry over the edge too, as he arches his back and stops, motionless except for the muscles in his arse.

 

And of course I was coming too, my spunk making creamy puddles over my belly and dripping down over my fingers into my pubes.  As the Harrys faded out of my mind they seemed to change, their hair getting longer and lighter and their faces beginning to look like somebody else (or can it be somebodies else?) I knew.

~*~*~*~

I wonder, when Harry gets home, if he’d like to invite Fred and George over for dinner some time.

 


End file.
